


Football (American) -or- The Motorsports world as The Boys of Fall

by Born In Captivity- Ineligible to Release (Jashasedai)



Category: Formula 1 RPF, Motorcycling RPF, motogp - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - High School, American Football
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-31
Updated: 2017-10-31
Packaged: 2019-01-27 05:25:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12574672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jashasedai/pseuds/Born%20In%20Captivity-%20Ineligible%20to%20Release
Summary: Max is a typical highschool student.  All he wants to do is make the football team and hang out with his friends.The year has a lot more in store for him- His family has moved, his friends have rejected him, the football team is sure to lose, and WHAT is that funky smell on his hoodie?!Tags: Max Verstappen, Daniel Ricciardo, Fernando Alonso, Carlos Sainz Jr, Jorge Lorenzo, (Featuring- Mitch Evans, Esteban Ocon, Lance Stroll, Dani Pedrosa, Marc Marquez, Valentino Rossi) Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe- Highschool, American Football





	Football (American) -or- The Motorsports world as The Boys of Fall

**The Boys of Fall**

 

Three weeks of frost had turned all the leaves a deep, crispy orange. Three months of summer jobs had put big speakers in Daniel's 1995 Toyota Tercel. It was still beige, and Max still slid as far down in the seat as he could, when they drove past the big, broad shouldered kids from the motocross club, getting off their enduros in the far corner of the parking lot.

Especially since the strains of Shot Through The Heart were just dying away.

The Final Countdown started.

Daniel insisted on playing 80's greats.

They did pull into their parking spot just as the band bellowed "It's the final countdown!" and the beat dropped. People looked. In the Alfa Romeo next to them, Kimi Raikkonen put his hand on his window, like the shaking was going to break it and just looked at them.

Max found an excuse to look through his bookbag until Kimi had gotten out of his car and headed in.

"Football Tryouts Today!" Said a massive banner, flapping in the stiff breeze.

Daniel basked in the sunshine. "We're going to kick ass at the tryouts today. You're definitely making Varsity." He punched Max's shoulder. "Got taller over the summer, my son." He laughed. He flipped the hood of his sweatshirt up to emphasise this.

They'd grown up in the same apartment building. Known each other all their lives.

Max tugged on the collar of his argyle sweater. It was cool, but not cool enough for the wool sweater and corduroy pants that his father had the maid lay out.

In the new, big house where they'd moved.

Because all of a sudden their family had come into money and the apartment in the building with all Max's friends and the warm dinner table, in arm's reach of the counter, and his little bed with the green afghan were unsuitable. The new bed and the new house and the dining table you had to shout across had been fun at first, but having to look in 5 rooms before he found his father to ask for homework help wasn’t cool, and a single slumber party at the beginning of summer before he was out of sight, out of mind, and Daniel was the only one of his old friends who bothered to call anymore, well none of that was cool.

He waved at the guys they'd grown up with, Daniil, Carlos, Brendon, Mitch, Alex, Jean-Eric. Jean-Eric raised his chin, but the rest of them looked away.

"Ignore them, they'll see you're the same guy, soon."

Yeah, like they'd seen Sebastian was the same guy when he moved. He was always standing now around with Kimi, too cool to look at anyone, except for leering when Nico and Lewis stormed by, pointedly ignoring each other, while still trying to look like they couldn't believe the other guy was "following them" even though they were always in the same classes. Now Sebastian wasn’t their friend anymore, he and Kimi were just the guys who couldn't be bothered with the rest of them.

"Here." As they reached their lockers, Daniel thumped him in the chest with a paper bag. "The cheerleaders are going to beat you up if you're wearing that. You left these at my place one time you stayed."

Jeans, a t shirt and a hoodie. So he could look like a normal guy again. He went and changed in the bathroom. Uh-oh. That growth spurt really had been something. The shirt was skin tight. The pants were long enough, but, tight, everywhere. Really tight. The shoes fitted, and the hoodie had a really funky smell. He stared at himself in the mirror, self-consciously.

There was a huge stain on the hoodie. Hadn't they gone to fried chicken that night? He ran it under the water in the sink, and it sort of came out, but now it was wet. He leaned on the sink and tried scrubbing it with handsoap.

Mitch Evans walked in. Max looked up. Mitch's eyes didn't meet his. They were fixed on his ass, bent over the sink, in the tight jeans. "I didn't realize you could get jeans tattooed on. Did you have to shave your ass so they could get the pockets right?"

Max turned around.

Mitch's eyes went wide. "Dude...Are you going to wear those? They're going to send you home."

That was rich, coming from a guy who was wearing a shirt so thin Max could pick out his freckles.

He did look up, then. "Are you okay, Max?"

He turned back to scrubbing his hoodie. "You didn't care this summer. None of you came to see me or called me back. I heard about that block party. Somebody could have called me."

"Whatever, dude. You're the one who stopped answering calls." He stormed into one of the stalls.

Max slammed the tap shut and walked out, his hoodie still wet and soapy.

Daniel had disappeared. There were two freshmen talking in front of Max's locker. "Look out!" He barked.

Esteban and Lance backed away like kicked puppies. "Sorry Max."

"Sorry."

Lance smiled nervously. "We're trying out for the team today. We'll probably just get on JV, but that will still be cool, huh, Max?"

He sighed. They were cool kids, it wasn't their fault. He pulled his binder out of his locker. "Yeah. That is pretty cool. Have you been practicing?"

They both nodded.

"Hey," Esteban leaned close and whispered. "Your laundry is leaving a huge wet spot on your jeans."

Max looked down. He'd leaned against the hoodie, and now the front leg and crotch of his jeans were wet. He swore.

"You can borrow my coat." Lance took off the immense parka he always wore everywhere and offered it to Max. Without it, he was actually very small and trim. He was smiling helpfully up at him, and Max felt touched.

"Thanks." He put the coat on. It fitted him, better, but it was still designed to be big, a snowboarder's jacket or something, and went down enough to cover the wet spot. "I owe you."

Class was the usual mess of kids talking and the teacher lecturing. By the time it was first break, his pants were dry and he left Lance's parka in his locker. Daniel had morning classes on the other side of the building, so he probably wouldn't see him.

He turned around as someone leaned on the locker next to his. "Verstappen."

He grinned hugely, until he saw who was with Fernando. Carlos. Who wouldn't even make eye contact with him.

He ignored this and smiled at the little senior. "Hi Fernando!"

"Trying out for football this year?"

"Yeah." He looked at Carlos, but Carlos was staring across the hall.

"Good. Need your speed." Fernando elbowed Carlos. "Yes, Carlitos?"

Carlos shrugged.

"I said..."

"I heard you," He huffed at his older brother, "Yeah, I'm glad you're trying out." He crossed his arms.

"Thanks," Max said, not really feeling like he was glad Carlos was...glad...

Carlos had been his best friend, back at home. They'd spent hours tormenting the older boys. Whenever the Alonso Sainz household had anything happening, it was always Max and Carlos and Fernando and Jenson, so they'd all gotten to know each other really well. Max missed Fernando and Jenson almost as much as his friends his own age.

Not that they had called, either, but he hadn't expected them to.

Fernando was waiting for something.

"Are you trying out for the team?" Max asked Carlos.

Carlos glared at him. "Of course. Did you think I wouldn't, just because you are?"

Fernando elbowed him again.

"Uh, no. I want you to be on the team. You're a great player." Max put his hands in his pockets.

"Have a problem," Fernando said. Evidently Max asking after Carlos hadn't been what he was waiting for. "Team needs new blood. Have had championship every year. For this year, will need strong players." He counted on his fingers, "Mark graduates, Felipe graduates, Nico moves, Jenson graduates. Need new starters."

"Jenson graduated? He's supposed to be a senior."

"Credits finished already," Fernando said, sadly. "Did not say. He is starting University."

"I'm sorry." It must suck to lose your best friend senior year. Max could sympathize.

"The team. Must have players. Who might play?"

Max shrugged. Then a thought occurred to him. "Do you ever watch the soccer team play?"

Fernando shrugged. "No."

"They don't have a chance at the championship this year, do they?"

Fernando waved his hands. If he didn't watch them, he didn't know their chances.

"I have an idea. How many guys do we need?"

"The best of the JV team are going to be moving up, we're pretty sure, but we need at least 4 guys who are REALLY fast." Carlos told him.

"I'll see what I can do."

"Is critical, Verstappen. Want a fourth championship." Fernando turned on his heel and walked away, Carlos behind him, casting glances back at Max.

Max waited until lunch and then headed out to the soccer field. He sat on the bleachers.

The team was scrimmaging. He watched the shirts put together a remarkable defense, only to have one of the skins push through, run circles around them. As he headed for the goal, jersey 93 who had been off in left field barreled up to him and stole the ball. He burned out for the other goal, the skin behind him every step. The skins surrounded him and he passed the ball to one of his teammates. Jersey 26 shot the goal.

When practice was over, he watched the tall skin pull his jersey on. Number 46.

93 and 26, he realized now were team tiny, compared to the other players, walked up to high five 46.

"Nice moves!" Max yelled. "Too bad they'll never get you anywhere."

The three turned, rage on their faces.

"You know, it's just too bad the school isn't up to your level. Won't ever get a championship in this sport." He had been to a couple soccer games. 46 was a senior, Valentino Rossi. 26, the littlest one, was the team captain, Dani Pedrosa. Their freshman all-star was Marc Marquez, Number 93. Who could run from one side of the pitch, steal the ball from the veteran and beat him back to the other end of the field.

"You come to start a fight, Verstappen?" Valentino called.

"No, I'm here to offer you a championship in your senior year. You guys are fast. You're great. The football team could use some speed. The core of the team graduated last year."

Valentino crossed his arms.

Pedrosa shook his head at his teammates. "No. He's right. We could do it."

He hadn't actually meant the team captain. Dani was too short, he would get crushed.

Well, the coach would see that. He wouldn't put Dani on a team where he'd get killed. No problem there.

He looked around for the fourth soccer star. "Where's Lorenzo?"

They exchanged glances.

"Jorge was suspended."

\--

Max hadn't been to the local elementary school since he was 10 and moved up to the middle school. He walked through the quiet hall. One of the classrooms had a light on. He looked through the window. Jorge was short, like the other soccer players. He had a shaved head and a goatee and was wearing a leather jacket. He had an earring.

He was sitting in a crowd of little kids, holding up a book.

Max opened the door, quietly.

"If you give a mouse a cookie," Read Jorge, "He's going to ask for a glass of milk. When you give him the milk, he'll probably ask you for a straw." He looked up and jutted his chin at Max, but carried on reading to the kids.

Max walked over to the desk where the teacher had paused in grading papers to watch him approach. "I have a note about Jorge," He said, setting it down on the desk. "If you sign it, it says he will be able to play football, if he continues his community service here in the afterschool program."

The teacher looked at him. "I've discussed this with Jorge. He says he doesn't want to play anymore."

"I'm from the football team, not the soccer team."

The teacher put down her pen. "Did you ask Jorge if he wants to be on the football team?"

"If he does, will you sign it?"

"He'll have to keep up with his community service."

"He'll want to."

Max helped the class with their afterschool activities, and then spoke to Jorge in the hallway. "We need you on the football team."

Jorge sighed. "Is that what this is about?"

"Why don't you want to play anymore?"

He shoved his fists in his pockets. "Did they tell you why I got suspended?"

"No."

"I was arrested for trespassing."

"Oh. I didn't hear."

"They dropped the charges, but I had to agree to spend my afternoons here."

"They'll let you play, though."

"I was with the team. We were spray painting NASCAR High's water tower with our team colors. They all took off and left me behind."

Max frowned. "Being ditched by your friends is shit."

He snorted. "Yes."

"The football team would never do that to you. We stand behind each other. No man left behind."

He didn't say anything.

"Don't you miss the crowds screaming your name?"

Jorge looked at him. There had been about 45 people at the last night game Max's dad had taken him to.

"Oh, don't they do that in soccer? They do in football."

A smile crossed the soccer star's face. "I could give it a try."

\--

The day of their first game dawned cold and clear, but during morning classes, the wind came up, cold, blustering the dead leaves and bits of grit and candy wrappers, and soon it had blown in dark clouds.

Max and Daniel were the first guys changed. “Where is Jorge?” Daniel asked. “I thought you said he was coming.”

“I don't know. Dani said he saw him pull in. I’ll go find him. We need him for the game.” Max ducked out of the locker room and trotted down the hallway. His football cleats clattering on the floor.

Outside, in the parking lot, Jorge was frantically walking around his little Toyota pickup. “I locked my keys in. My bag is in there!”

Max came over and looked in. Sure enough, Jorge’s gym bag and his keys were sitting on the seat. “I know what to do.” He went to Dan’s car and popped the trunk. Dan’s rear passenger door would never lock, so he never bothered to lock any of the doors. Max got out the coat hanger with Dan’s suit for the dance after the game. He pulled it apart and they pushed it through the space above Jorge’s window and used it to unlock the door. Jorge grabbed his things and they ran back to the locker room. The team was already out on the field. “I’ll meet you out there!” Max called.

Jorge hurried to change and Max ran out to the crowd of players waiting to run onto the field. “Jorge is on his way!”

“Why didn't you answer your phone?!” Daniel yelled over the rising wind.

“It didn’t ring,” Max yelled back. He pulled it out and showed Daniel no missed calls.

Daniel looked in puzzlement at his own phone. He redialed. Nothing happened. Max looked in his blocked numbers.

Daniel’s number was on the blocked number list. So was Mitch’s, Carlos’s, and all the other guys. Even Fernando and Jenson.

How had this happened?

Then he realized. His father had brought him a new phone after they’d moved, as a reward, and since that day, none of his friends had called or texted. His father must have blocked the numbers. Dan’s phone had gone into the pool with him the night of the slumber party, and he’d gotten a new number. That must have been why Mitch said Max wasn’t answering calls… His friends did care about him, after all.

The band started playing. The football team roared and Max roared with them and they all ran forward through the enormous paper banner the cheerleaders were holding up. Valtteri Bottas, their Left Tackle charged through the banner and crashed straight into a trombonist from the band who had been carelessly placed too close to the team’s exit route. They went down in a racket and took the first trumpet with them. The trombonist, who happened to be Mitch, and the trumpet player who happened to be Jev, both swore at him, until Lewis, one of the Running Backs pulled him out of the pileup and back into the mass of football players who had stopped to watch.

Master of comedic timing, Mitch jumped back up and blew an angry wah wah waahhh at Valtteri on his trombone.

On the field, the team from the school in the next town, Indianapolis high, in their yellow and black uniforms, thumped their helmets and yelled. They had won every game against Formula High for the last 3 years, but with their new lineup, Fernando was sure he had their number.

Dani had made the team. He was lighting with a foot like a corkscrew. Anyone who COULD manage to catch up to him couldn’t deal with the way he twisted from one side to the other, ducking under or spinning away from their grasp. Marc was pure speed and Valentino was pure strategy. Jorge seemed like he was psychic or could teleport or something he was never where the defense was.

Fernando, the Quarterback, orchestrated all of this like a master, from behind his blonde wall of Val, Kimi, and Sebastian.

When they went on the defense, those same 3 blocked, pushing an opening while Lewis darted through to blitz the enemy Quarterback before he could even throw. Carlos, Max and Daniel each ran a touchdown.

It was a flawless victory. Formula High demolished Indianapolis High 27 to nothing.

Carlos and Daniel surrounded Max in back clapping hugs as the game ended. Mitch ran over, his band uniform askew from the enthusiasm with which the band had cheered for their team. He threw himself into Max’s arms. “You did it!! We are going to have this championship for sure! You saved the school, Max! We owe it all to you!”

The rest of the year was going to be good. Max could feel it.

**Author's Note:**

> Real People don't belong to me.
> 
> This story is fiction and is no reflection on anyone in it. The story does belong to me.


End file.
